Fortune Failed
by Starfly
Summary: In a world where your fortune is everything, Joey is left alone and abandoned. He'd do anything to succeed... Even team up with his worst enemy...


Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh or Gattica.  
  
New fic! I'm fresh from watching a bunch of good movies and, as usual, I've got really weird ideas at hand. This is set five or ten years later than the series.  
  
Joey's POV  
  
I stared at the doorbell, my finger an inch away. I should ring it-have to- but I don't want to. I looked around, stalling for time, but no one else was there, no sudden savior come to rescue me, just this shabby old apartment with its doorbell that was probably broken.  
  
The thought heartened me. 'I'll ring,' I thought, 'I'll ring and if no one comes I don't care, I'll find something else, I know I've tried but-"  
  
Push.  
  
Ding-dong!  
  
Damn.  
  
The door swung open. I blinked and found myself staring at a small dark man, with neatly parted hair and a trimmed beard. He looked completely normal until your eyes met his; there was a twitchy sort of look of them, an insecurity that spoke of years of illegal dealings.  
  
And now we were to do business.  
  
"Mr. Wheeler, I see," he muttered, glancing up at me to make sure I wasn't some sort of secret cop. I was surprised at his voice-technically it sounded nothing like mine, but the accent, the little cockney trait of mine that's caused me so much grief belonged to him as well.  
  
I stood, staring, until he grabbed my arm and pulled me inside.  
  
"Quickly, quickly," he muttered again. "This is not the behavior I expected from you, Mr. Wheeler."  
  
I blushed, despite myself.  
  
I was about to embark on a mission that would throw me into a recently invented underclass, someone that the rest of society looked down upon. But society itself had driven me to take these measures.  
  
Some people are so talented, have everything going for them, and yet their life ends in misery and ruin. Some people seem to be headed for nothing but a sort of living hell, but mysteriously rise to the top, becoming successful beyond anyone's wildest dreams. It's fate at work.  
  
But recently, some god damned scientist, some talented young prick, discovered a way to tell these circumstances. He made what I guess could be thought of as a precognitive device, something that accurately spoke of your future. Something that correctly foretold whether you should be hired or not.  
  
Of course no one believed it at first. But he fought like hell to prove himself right, and lo and behold, it worked. Whoever the machine decreed worthy ended up being wildly successful and brought fame and fortune to wherever they worked; whoever it turned away, no matter what happened afterward, whether they believed or not, always ended up ruined.  
  
It caught on like wildfire. People who never thought they had a chance were suddenly rich and powerful, people who knew they were destined for greatness ended up on welfare. Soon it didn't matter how smart, how talented, how determined you were; it only mattered whether you made that machine light up saving green or damning red. It even brought my best friend, Tristen Taylor, from a shitty job at a gas station to being assistant manager of a successful company.  
  
I, however, was not so fortunate. All it gave me was a little blinking red light and a trip back to the streets. And it was the same everywhere. Anywhere I went, the result was still the same; I was still unworthy to be hired. I ended up applying for that job Tristen had vacated at the station, but no. Nothing.  
  
I ended up right alongside the machine's inventor. Unfortunately for him, his creation showed him nothing but a scarlet glow, and he too was abandoned to the streets.  
  
Somehow I find my sympathy for him is limited.  
  
The man-Mr. Fenton, his name was-led me down the dank rotting corridor and into an open room. Unlike the rest of the apartment it was finely decorated, with marble floors and gorgeous furniture. A figure sat, still, in the corner.  
  
I did not know this man, had never met him, but I knew what happened to him. Occasionally even those the machine approved did not end up well. Usually it was for a personal reason that they gave up their jobs and homes, something the machine did not check for. Needless to say this was a rare event indeed, or the machine would have been scrapped.  
  
But it was an opportunity for those like myself, who could not find work because of our crossed stars. You see, the machine tested through drops of blood. With the blood of these individuals who had given up their lives, I would be accepted into any of the positions that had been denied me.  
  
One could argue that even with these advantages I was still doomed-if the machine truly worked, wouldn't I eventually end right back up where I started? My answer is only that I stopped caring about that long ago. For however long it lasted, I would have a job, I would regain the friends who had abandoned me when I seemingly sunk out of existence, I could support myself. Be a man, not a dog.  
  
I looked at Mr. Fenton out of the corner of my eye. Either he liked this business-which I could not imagine being true-or he himself was Red, as we were called, and soon would be caught.  
  
"Sit down," he muttered snappishly, pointing at a chair, and I suspected he'd noticed my look. "Now, I have discovered a Green who is willing to partake in this. He was the CEO of a major company, but for reasons he refuses to reveal he quit his job and withdrew from life, as he says. We have discussed how this is to be accomplished, correct?"  
  
"Yes." I found I was muttering myself, nervousness, guilt, and the tiniest bit of excitement filling my throat.  
  
"Good." He made an odd gesture, and for a second I wondered why until I noticed the shadowy figure come forward.  
  
Then the light fell across his face, and I let out a cry of shock.  
  
The brown hair was longer than I remembered, the nails like claws, but the eyes still eyes still held the same cold disdain, the mouth instantly curving into a sneer at the sight of me.  
  
Seto Kaiba. 


End file.
